I Have Returned
by Fliggle
Summary: After being defeated at Kronus and having his damned soul cast into the Warp as punishment, the feared Word Bearers Dark Apostle, Eliphas the Inheritor, emerges on Meridian, the capital world of subsector Aurelia, eager to wreak revenge, and once more venerate the Chaos Gods in conquest. Rated T for violence, also possible bad language.
1. Chapter I: Resurrection

The room was dimly-lit and expansive, as though it stretched luxuriantly in the darkness. Silhouettes of people shuffling to and fro could be seen, though most lay or sat upon cushions and chairs. The violent, the gluttonous, the inquisitive, the complacent – Chaos called to the hearts of all. A particularly overweight man was appreciatively sipping at a goblet of amasec, swilling the exquisite fluid around the inside of his mouth to better take in the taste. He held out a fat arm for his beleaguered servant to cut, letting the blood dribble slowly into a cup which was being passed around the room. Engraved with eldritch symbols, this cup gradually filled with the blood of every person in the room until finally it was carefully placed in the middle of a dais situated in the centre of the room. All at once, marks etched painstakingly upon the dais in preparation began to glow a reddish pink with Warp energy. The cup rose slowly and smoothly so not one drop of blood was spilled, for even that would disrupt the already tenuous connection to the realm of daemons and ruin the ritual.

Summoning creatures from the Warp, after all, was a tricky business.

The pink energy sparked into flame until the podium was ablaze with fire as high as a standing man, obscuring the cup. A sulphurous scent displaced the heady incense that filled the air, and suddenly a guttural voice boomed from the platform, echoing around the room accompanied by a thousand whispered promises of death.

"You choose to bring forth one of our number into the Materium. Chaos praises thy temerity! Now let one of you step up and partake from the cup to truly begin this blessed rite."

"I will do it!" yelled a tall, lean man. Once a proud lord, his sin had started to twist his features. Already he looked a little more pallid, a little more bestial. His confidence was not challenged by any in the room, for though they knew dabbling in the Warp could bring great power, it could just as easily bring suffering and death to those too ignorant to be wary.

"Excellent!" uttered the deathly voice forcefully. "Step into the circle. If you are a true believer in the Dark Powers, the flames shall not harm you."

The lord strode forward arrogantly, scarcely breaking stride as he entered the circle and was never seen again by mortal man. However, they did hear his screams of agony and the sharp snapping of limbs before the cries ended. Before long, a grey powder drifted back through the ring of fire, settling in a pile on the floor.

"His faith was not sure enough," explained the voice scornfully. "Come now! Surely there is another who wishes to participate and gain the favour of the Chaos Gods? Or shall your cowardice fail you at the vital step?"

"I shall," answered a young woman. Striking in appearance and flawless in countenance, she sought ever greater youth and beauty. Rumour had it that she bathed in the blood of her slaves to appease the Prince of Pleasure. Her pledge also went unchallenged, and without waiting for the voice's instruction she stepped through the flame. The audience tensed, waiting for the screams. None came. The voice chuckled, a thoroughly unpleasant sound. "Congratulations. Your belief is pure and you are worthy. As you leave this mortal plane your soul will be commended to Lord Slaanesh! Now, continue the ritual."

At this, a wizened ancient man hobbled forward, carrying a massive human hide-bound tome, as broad as he was at the shoulders. He struggled on until he was close enough to the circle, and the book levitated and opened, seemingly of its own accord. The patrons around the room gasped, for even the most mundane display of sorcery was intriguing to them. The old man began a slow, moaning chant recited from the book. The monotone recitation dripped with forbidden power, so that the temperature of the room seemed to drop considerably. The fat man gave an involuntary shudder, forgetting about his amasec.

An unearthly phrase caused the flames to suddenly die down, revealing the unclothed, flayed form of the woman standing with her arms outstretched. Those who could glimpse the red mass that was once a face realised, with a quirk of horror, that her expression was one of rapture, as though there was no greater pleasure in life.

The old man's tone changed. His voice grew deeper and harsher as he enunciated the last few syllables. As the final word echoed into nothingness, it left a tense pause of a few seconds before the air began to shimmer upon the dais. The shimmering became more intense and violent, as though some beast was trying to break the wards. The cultists' view of the flayed woman was distorted by the shimmering, and as the space on the platform became darker, the shrieking, insane laughter of the woman filled the room and gradually faded as a portal to the Warp appeared. To some it seemed deepest black. To others it seemed filled with strange, unknowable brightness. The woman toppled backwards into the portal with a final fit of hysteria and was lost to sight. With a blinding flash, the dais cracked and exploded under the strain of the power, but it was no longer needed for the ritual. All was now done.

The audience was transfixed. Instead of a lesser daemon or minor entity of Chaos, as they had expected, a lone Astartes stood nude, head down, hands clenching and relaxing. The scars that marred and crossed his superhumanly muscular form, as well as his hideous, bestial features, marked him out as a Chaos Space Marine, a traitor of the Imperium as surely as everybody else in the room. Why, then, had he answered the summons, rather than a Daemonette to titillate and please them, or a Bloodletter to inspire them to violence?

The Traitor Astartes looked up. He frowned at the audience, seeing them as weaklings to be crushed beneath his boot, or impressionable cowards driven before him to war. He opened his mouth. All the room froze.

His voice was a deep, smooth drawl. Sardonic arrogance coloured its tone, showing his complete confidence.

"I have returned."

A/N: Thanks for reading the first chapter of my first submission, I hope you enjoyed it! Corrections/suggestions/constructive criticisms are always welcome.


	2. Chapter II: New Ally?

Eliphas' enhanced eyes adjusted to the room's darkness immediately. He felt a mix of satisfaction that he had wrested himself free from the daemons that had tormented him, and disgust at this pathetic gang of cultists. Having had more strength than the daemon they wished to summon, he took his place. Allowing himself one moment of regret for the loss of his wargear, including the terrifying Helm of Lorgar and his famed Accursed Crozius, he stood intimidatingly, seeing these Warp-dabblers for the tools of revenge they were.

Revenge... revenge was a good place to start. Revenge against Davian Thule and his thrice-damned Blood Ravens.

Wait. Calm. Anger lends strength, but Eliphas was not foolish enough to think he could stand against a force of Space Marines alone. He needed an army as he had once had on Kronus. Seas of cultists to drown the foe, feral packs of Raptors to shred the enemy to pieces, and disciplined squads of his Word Bearers to cut down any survivors, while Defilers waded into the piles of corpses, picking off squads at range and shredding any stupid enough to get close. While the rabble lead by Gorgutz was susceptible to such a tactic, Thule's forces had expanded rapidly southward, defeating the Necrons and sweeping into Chaos territory. All the cultists Eliphas could muster availed him nought against the Land Raiders that decimated his headquarters, and when the Daemon Prince appeared, he killed Eliphas outright, casting his cursed soul into the Warp.

Eliphas suspected the Daemon Prince did not anticipate his return. This thought filled him with grim mirth, so that bleak laughter issued unbidden from his cruel mouth. The crowd was fearful. Good. The scared were always easy to manipulate.

"Brothers of Chaos," he began smoothly, "I have come to lead you. Together we shall conquer this world and turn it to the service of the Dark Powers. With me at your head, the loyalist puppets shall fall, and this planet shall be the first of many as we sweep across the stars as a torrent of blood and death! Who stands with me in this endeavour?

"I am Eliphas the Inheritor, Dark Apostle of the Word Bearers, Lord of Chaos, bane of the greenskins and the rotting Imperium, favoured by Khorne, forged by a thousand years of torment and a thousand more of war! I shall lead you! Stand with me, and I promise you blood. I promise you power beyond anything you can imagine. I promise you all that you desire, for such is the lure of Chaos.

"Come then! We shall honour the Ruinous Powers through our words and deeds, and I shall guide you and instruct you in the holy teachings of my primarch, Lorgar, first of all our enlightened brethren. I repeat, who stands with me?"

Inwardly he smiled grimly. If he could exhort a battalion of Word Bearers to mindless slaughter, or encourage and coax a group of cultists into the meatgrinder, he could easily convince a clutch of gullible fools of the worthiness of his cause. After all, he was not chosen to be a Dark Apostle for nothing. Stirring oratories were his forte.

The room was utterly swayed by his speech. They had gone from scared to awestruck to impetuous and eager. A particularly fat man began to thump a goblet on the table beside him, uncaring of the drink that was spilling. The rhythm was taken up quickly around the room, increasing in volume and speed. The haggard old man who had completed the ritual swayed closer to Eliphas and prostrated himself before the Traitor Marine.

"My lord... lead us into glory. We will do all you ask. Grant us the power of the Dark Gods."

Eliphas resisted the temptation to crush his head as he outstretched his hand. He could not abide weaklings, but beggars could not be choosers. Instead he took the elderly cultist's withered hand and raised him up.

"Graciously I accept your allegiance, brothers and sisters united under Chaos Undivided. Now, as is my right as leader, I brand you the Brotherhood of Inheritance."

At these words, a small wind blew through the room, lightly rattling the chains adorning the roof, as though the Chaos Gods had given their blessing to the name.

"Come closer, believers, and tell me of this world, so that I may better plan our attack."

"This is Meridian, my Lord," said a man average in every way as they all shuffled forward in various poses of obeisance. "Hive World capital of subsector Aurelia."

"And for what reason did you all turn to Chaos?" asked Eliphas.

"This world is under the protection of the Blood Raven Space Marines, who also protect Planetary Governor Derosa. She has run afoul of us many times, my Lord, and the Imperium is unwilling to listen to our complaints," replied an elderly woman who wore many trinkets attached to piercings on her face and ears.

"Therefore the Warp and its Gods are merely tools for you to depose this governor?" enquired Eliphas irritatedly.

"No, no, my Lord, we would give our lives for the Great Powers," said a skittish young man, quick to cool the Apostle's wrath. "B-but we wish to convert this world to Chaos and rule it ourselves."

An unworthy cause. "A worthy cause, child. It is fortunate, then, that I have been brought forth to lead you. What meagre force can you muster?" This was the most important part to Eliphas – these fools were too few on their own, and he deemed most of them unable to hold a lasgun, much less wage war against the Imperium.

The old woman spoke up. "We hold approximately five thousand in security forces, enough to perhaps invade a single factory."

Invade? Perhaps. But not for long before the PDF and the Guard struck, not to mention the Blood Ravens who watched over the world.

"Brethren, I would like to know how you came by the knowledge of Chaos."

"That will not be necessary," said a loud, belligerent voice from the now open door.

Eliphas swung around to look at the owner of the voice. It was another Astartes. One clad in black Terminator armour. He held a combi-flamer, aiming steadily at Eliphas' bare chest, and neither of them was under any illusion about what would happen if either a bolter shell or a jet of flaming promethium hit him.

The Terminator started forward, followed by two other Traitor Marines clad in similarly black power armour. Their guns were also trained on him as they flanked the Terminator. However, if they were looking for a fearful reaction, they would not get one from the Inheritor.

"Black Legionnaires?" said Eliphas scornfully. "We do not need your brand of dullardry. You lack the respect that the Dark Gods deserve."

The Terminator waited for him to finish, then gave a warning shot that sped past a nonchalant Eliphas to eviscerate the young man kneeling behind him.

"I am Araghast the Pillager, whelp," replied the Terminator calmly, " _I_ am the Lash of the Black Legion. _I_ am in control of this world, and soon the corpse-worshipping peons will know it. I do not suffer the scorn of my inferiors, nor do I tolerate those who do not follow my orders. Now you will answer my questions, or the next shot pierces your head. Now, who are _you_?"

"I am Eliphas the Inheritor of the Word Bearers, scourge of Kronus."

"Kronus, you say? I heard the Word Bearers fell and their leader personally crushed by a Daemon Prince."

"And yet here I am." said Eliphas, noting with satisfaction that Araghast's two bodyguards seemed unnerved that anybody could seem so confident in the face of the Black Legion.

"Recently returned, I see. And why are you here?"

"I am here to have my revenge against the Blood Ravens, especially one Davian Thule, who lead the forces who defeated me on Kronus."

Araghast gave a low laugh. "Do not worry, fool, if you submit to me I promise you all the revenge you could want. I also know what happened to Thule, and if you submit I will tell you."

Eliphas had no choice, and Araghast knew it. While fairly confident he could kill one Astartes unarmed with no armour, two Astartes and a Terminator Lord? Besides, he needed to know about Thule as well as indulge in a small taste of vengeance against the Blood Ravens.

He knelt. "I submit, Lord Araghast."


	3. Chapter III: A Test

"Excellent," proclaimed Araghast as he stood over the prostrated Eliphas. "The Black Legion could use one such as you. Now, Kagor."

Treachery, as Eliphas had expected. As soon as he saw one of the guards lift their bolter to execute him, he sprang towards him, slapping the weapon out of his hand. The armoured Marine flicked a knife out of a hidden compartment and came at him with a looping overhead swing that Eliphas had no choice but to catch. Even with Eliphas' experience and power, the guard's power armour gave him a distinct strength advantage. The monomolecular blade inched ever closer to the Word Bearer's eye. In a desperate effort, Eliphas twisted, trying to flip his opponent, but with the practiced movements of a battle-hardened veteran, the foe disengaged, then drove the knife into Eliphas' chest – only a jink at the last moment had saved his primary heart from being speared.

The pain was minimal, thanks to the augmentations and daemonic gifts bestowed upon the once-favoured Word Bearer. Muttering a quick prayer to Khorne, he dragged the weapon out of his wound, holding it in a reverse grip and a cautious stance. Meanwhile, his enemy had stepped back and was now bringing up a bolt pistol.

Eliphas threw the knife and managed to cut a finger off the armoured Astartes, making him drop the pistol. Lunging towards the bolter while the enemy scrambled for the pistol, he managed to get to a weapon first, rolling onto his back to aim and fire.

The bolt caught the Black Legionnaire square in the face, penetrating through the glaring helmet and exploding within the cranium, blowing the unfortunate's head apart dramatically. Unthinkingly, with instinct born of centuries of drills and training before the Heresy, he switched targets to the other guard. Less accurate this time – the first bolt exploded harmlessly off the pauldron, and the second burrowed deep into the upper arm before detonating, brutally amputating the limb but failing to kill the target. From the cry of ecstasy emanating from the vox, Eliphas knew this mewling traitor had dedicated his soul to the Prince of Excess, as the remaining enemy turned to face him, with a plasma pistol in hand.

Leaping quickly to the decapitated corpse in a last attempt at survival, Eliphas already knew the futility of his action. He was the hapless prey and he was already caught in the talons. Trying to hoist the armoured body before the Slaaneshi could sight and fire, the Word Bearer braced himself for the incinerating blast.

A massive bang, far unlike any firing sound a plasma gun should make. The sound reminded him of the Great Crusade, when the battle-brother beside him, wielding a massive plasma cannon, had suddenly blown up in a blinding flash and a deafening roar.

Could it be?

Eliphas risked a peek behind his improvised shield. The Legionnaire was now utterly armless, with severe scorch marks down the left side of his armour where the plasma pistol had exploded, and the stump that was left from the explosion was cauterised by the extreme heat.

Roaring in triumph, Eliphas discarded the corpse and began to fire shell after shell into the Slaaneshi – even decapitation may not instantly kill a Space Marine pumped on combat drugs and unable to feel pain. Each shell utterly devastated the traitor's torso. The pulped remains of his organs were littered and sprayed across the floor. Blood poured forth from what was left of his body, pooling at his quaking feet.

By whatever means, the traitor still stood, his arms severed, his torso less meat and more holes. Eliphas had exhausted the magazine, and dropped the bolter to saunter forward to the doomed Slaaneshi. Stooping and picking up the bolt pistol without breaking stride, he stopped in front of the standing corpse. Tearing off his helmet, Eliphas saw a beautiful androgynous face. Perhaps a mortal, maybe even an Astartes, would look upon this face and lose their soul to desire. Eliphas gazed deep into the Marine's eyes and felt nothing. The face was twisted with fear, the glistening green eyes wide, pupils dilated. Trying to breathe, cycling air through its throat but with no lungs to support him. Mouth open in a silent shriek.

Eliphas sneered. "Why does anything think I can be killed?" he asked, raising his voice for the benefit of his terrified audience. Grabbing the long brown hair of the Slaaneshi, Eliphas raised the pistol to its neck and fired, showering him in blood as the body fell backwards. He looked into the traitor's eyes as the life left them.

He turned to Lord Araghast, clad in only blood which sheeted over his body. Araghast had done nothing to aid his guards, only watched as Eliphas had brutally slaughtered them both. Now he stood, hulking, monolithic, expectant. He regarded the Dark Apostle through his helmet.

"Kneel, worm," he proclaimed, and Eliphas obeyed. He was not confident that his bolt pistol could kill the Terminator Lord, even fresh from victory.

"I pledge myself to your cause, Lord Araghast. I think I have amply demonstrated my capabilities to you."

In response, Araghast drew a mighty sword. Eliphas could sense the malevolence that seemed to drip from the razor edge. _Daemon_.

Eliphas knelt, as many had once done before him, and he knew Araghast could dub him a Black Legionnaire or merely swipe his head from his shoulders.

In parody of Loyalist dubbing, the sword descended, biting deep into Eliphas' left shoulder. The pain lanced through him, more severe than the knife wound in his chest, but he did not react, focusing his gaze on the floor.

The blade swept up and cut into his right shoulder. He had endured far worse pains, both on the battlefield and in the cursed Basilica. He would not fail here.

"You are a member of the Black Legion, whelp. You have killed my most accomplished guards, and now I find myself in need of new ones. You will suffice for now. I am the Master of Hounds, and you are now my dog. Follow me and carry the bodies. Your new brothers will be most anxious to meet their newest arrival."

Eliphas bent down to pick up the bodies, struggling a little under the weight of their armour. Once he was stood up and the corpses were resting on his shoulders, it was easier to bear. He left the gore and blood pooled and splattered over the floor, though. The cultists and their servants could clean that up.

Following his new master, Eliphas walked out of the door and into a new chapter of his cursed, blessed life. Of course, Araghast was a useful tool. He had a warband and vast power. However, when a tool has no further use, it is to be discarded.

Eliphas smiled at the possibilities. Revenge was near.

 _A/N: Thanks for reading! As always, criticisms, suggestions and corrections are more than welcome. I'm super inexperienced with writing fight scenes, so any criticism pertaining to that would be especially wonderful._ _If anyone is looking for more Warp-dabbling and daemon stuff, that'll be around in the next chapter._

 _Now, I ask: I'm planning to follow this up to (or perhaps a little past) the end of Retribution. Should I follow the canon Space Marine ending, or the Chaos ending where we get to see Eliphas kicking ass all the way to Daemon Princedom? The choice is yours, but I'm leaning more towards Chaos at this point._

 _It is a good pain, brothers._


	4. Chapter IV: A New Legion

A maze of black corridors, scattered with slaves who cowered from the Chaos Marines walking past them, one carrying two corpses upon his mighty shoulders. The number of passages and chambers was gigantic, for gatherings of those who followed Chaos were hard to find by necessity. If Lord Araghast had not known the way, Eliphas estimated it would have taken him days to reach the exit without interrogating one of the mewling slaves.

Even so, the unnatural cold and faint scents of ozone and depravity were detectable for a long way, showing the strength of their naive dabbling in the Warp. Eliphas cursed himself for his ineptitude. He should have realised that the cultists had not been able to summon daemons – they were too few and could not have merely happened upon or inherited the necessary knowledge or materials. Chaos had wormed its way subtly into the hearts of the powerful and influential, as is its fashion, but a host of Black Legionnaires had provided them with the means to swell their numbers with creatures of the Warp.

The scent of Chaos became suddenly strong again as Eliphas followed his new lord into a massive room. Far larger and sparser than the one the cultists were, big enough to house perhaps a hundred Baneblades. The high ceiling was obscured due to darkness. Scant lighting around the place revealed dozens of Chaos Space Marines, all clad in the same black armour. Most of them had black helmets, but a few scattered around donned the peaked red or pink helmets that marked them out as Berserkers or Noise Marines. The noise of bragging, threats and other brash annoyances assaulted Eliphas' ears. His frown deepened.

However, as Araghast strode pompously into the centre of the room, the noise died down, the lackeys gazing with awe and respect at their leader.

"Who is this fool, master?" asked a skittish warrior, bolter held cautiously towards Eliphas, ready shoot if his lord should require.

"He was summoned by the foolish governors. As you can see, he has killed Nemetrius and Kagor, my trusted guards." Eliphas let the corpses fall disdainfully. The crowd began to buzz quietly.

"He killed them..."

"Summoned, you say?"

"Let's pull him apart bit by bit..."

Eliphas became very conscious that he was surrounded.

"Stay your hands, my hounds. He is under my protection, for now at least," rumbled Araghast. His warband backed down immediately like beaten dogs. Good. A leader nobody would listen to is begging for a dagger in the back.

Not that he wouldn't get one eventually...

He turned to Eliphas, his vox turned down. "Strip the bodies and don a suit of power armour, and do not steal any weaponry."

"Yes... my Lord." Eliphas left without kneeling or even bowing. He doubted Araghast cared.

Dragging the corpses behind him, Eliphas strode up to a team of slaves busily cleaning an empty black armour set. "Dispose of these worms, and give me that armour."

"B-but sir, Crunax wears that and..." The slave that had spoken out quailed under Eliphas' withering stare.

"That is not my concern, slave. Your concern is merely to get rid of these carcasses and dress me in that armour. Understand?"

"Y-yes, sir!" said the slave, and five of them scurried over to the bodies to take them to either a mausoleum or a furnace. The rest took the suit to Eliphas, dressing him in the familiar heavy ceramite. One of the slaves carried the helmet, looking eager.

"No, I do not require the helmet. Crunax may wear that, if he wishes." The slave nodded, relieved, and replaced it. Eliphas walked away smoothly back to Araghast. "My Lord, I am armoured."

"Good, whelp. Brothers," Lord Araghast continued, raising his voice, "This man has killed two of our number. Any who wish to slay him in turn must challenge him one by one. The one who kills him becomes my new bodyguard. Begin."

Eliphas looked around contemptuously, noting the mixture of emotions of the Warband. Though many of their faces were obscured, he could see the nervous ones that were practically slumped in their armour, and the angry ones staring at him intently, ready to go for their weapons.

"First!" shouted a voice from behind Eliphas, and he could hear his challenger charging him down, revving his chain-weapon in readiness. Eliphas turned to see one of the Berserkers running at him, right hand holding a chainaxe high, left hand aiming a bolt pistol at him. The pistol barked, spitting a bolt. Eliphas took it on the pauldron, settling into a low stance, ready to absorb the charge.

When it came, the charge was as strong as he'd been expecting. His right hand caught the gun, wresting it from the Khornate's grip and emptying the magazine into his side, pulping the Berserker's ribs so a deluge of blood ran down his armour. His scream was one of fury rather than pain, and the chainaxe came down so powerfully that Eliphas could barely catch it, shifting to the side so the blade ground against into armoured shoulder rather than his skull. Throwing the Khornate aside, Eliphas knocked him down, took his chainaxe and messily cut through his spine, silencing him in mid-scream.

"Anybody else?" asked Eliphas menacingly, raising the dripping chainaxe. No takers. Good. Even the fellow Khornates seemed hesitant now that one of their number lay almost bisected in a pool of the blood he had once venerated and strived to spill for Khorne.

Eliphas hoisted the chainaxe over his shoulder and holstered the bolt pistol, sauntering through the crowd which opened up before him. None dared look him in the eye. Araghast's voice boomed through the massive room.

"The Warp... whispers to me. Orks infest the sewers and dark places in this place. The timing could not be more perfect! We shall drive the Orks to Angel Forge to catch the attention of the Blood Ravens protecting the planet, and then we shall slaughter them all! Prepare for battle, for we strike as soon as possible!"

The announcement was met with a mighty cheer, a bloodthirsty, warmongering roar heralding that which would soon set this world alight with Chaos.

Eliphas felt a familiar rush of adrenaline. He felt the heady sensation of battle. He would meet the Blood Ravens with bolter and sword.

He might even meet a few old friends along the way...

 _A/N: Over two hundred views? Impossible! By all means I should have had this one up a day earlier, but other duties/mild writer's block happened._

 _I feel that this chapter isn't up to scratch with the others, as I didn't have as much fun writing it as I usually do, so my apologies for that. Suggestions for improvements are especially welcome for this one._

 _Thanks to Doccy who helped me decide that screw canon, Eliphas deserves to be a Daemon Prince so he's gonna be a goddamn Daemon Prince. After that, even Abaddon must watch his back._

 _Finally, a huge thank you to all readers so far, and I hope you have enjoyed and continue to enjoy this little series!_


	5. Chapter V: Scheme

"Jurulas, you are in charge of luring the Orks to the forge," said Lord Araghast, addressing a tall Chaos Space Marine near the front. Jurulas knelt. "Yes, my lord."

"Eliphas, you will command this rabble and wipe out the Blood Ravens reinforcements."

The crowd fell silent. A traitor that, up until a few moments ago, had no armour and no affiliation, that had killed three of their number, leading them? Eliphas heard the dissent spreading like tendrils through the crowd. He himself was confused by the choice, as if he was in Araghast's position, he would not have let himself spring the trap.

This all begged the question: what would Araghast be doing?

"I will travel to Aurelia, to prepare an attack there upon the Blood Ravens."

Fleeing to another planet? Oh, excellently planned, Araghast.

None of them were expected to survive the attack. That was the stark reality of it. He doubted the gullible fools around him realised it, but they were to be a distraction, drawing the attention of the loyalists away from the real threat on Aurelia. A game of Regicide sometimes had to be won by sacrificing a few pawns. Eliphas, as it happened, was not particularly eager to die again. He had vengeances to exact, punishments to mete, empires to conquer before he could allow himself to fall.

So, then, to business. Eliphas strode back over to his new Lord, and knelt as Jurulas had done.

"My Lord, what is your plan for the trap?"

"Our contacts with House Vandis, who you have met, have a considerable number of security and Planetary Defence Forces under their sway. Use them, as well as all the Marines here. It is your responsibility how you command my troops. If you fail, pray you die in the attack, or else I will find you and take your skull for Khorne. Leave us now, and plan."

"Yes, my Lord." Eliphas got up, turned on his heel, and left, his mind already buzzing with tactical manoeuvres and ways in which he could dismantle the formations of Imperial Guard and Blood Ravens.

From prior experience, Eliphas knew that security forces were pathetic fighters and quick to rout. PDF troops showed slightly more backbone than security, but still paled in comparison to the Imperial Guardsmen who would no doubt outnumber them. If dug in, they counterintuitively would be more effective against Space Marines who could not throw mass waves of soldiers into the meatgrinder or overwhelm them through pure numbers.

His first instinct was to wait until the Guard and the Orks were at their weakest and then send the troops in to mop up and fortify against the Blood Ravens, flanking with the Black Legion when it became prudent. However, Eliphas had experienced first-hand the speed of the response of the Space Marines, underestimating the rapid pace their battle doctrine dictated, and thus had fallen. If the Blood Ravens responded quicker than the security and PDF could make ready their defences, the Marines would sweep through and massacre the traitorous forces, and that was a risk Eliphas was not willing to take. Sacrificing troops unnecessarily was a luxury Eliphas could not afford.

After dissecting his first plan, he thought back to Istvaan V, one of Chaos' most successful battles. The key component of the victory was that the traitors had not yet revealed their true colours, instead slaughtering the loyalists at their most vulnerable. He remembered that day with something close to fondness, as he had fired upon his former brothers from the defensive wall, chanting Lorgar's sacred phrases at the top of his lungs, exhorting his Word Bearers to epic feats of slaughter as the haggard Raven Guard formations crumbled under the grinding bombardment of shot and shell.

Along with the Drop Site Massacre, most successful Chaos incursions relied on the element of surprise, waiting until the enemy became vulnerable and then striking with all they had. Based on this, Eliphas had a sudden idea.

A slave chose that exact moment to appear, trembling in front of his massive armoured form. He was holding a holopict of what looked to be an overhead view of Angel Forge. Impatiently snatching the picture, the slave had already been forgotten about as Eliphas wheeled around, trying to regain his train of thought.

The Imperial Guard, upon receiving reports of Ork looters invading the Manufactorum, would panic, sending as many of their troops as possible. Surely they would not object to being reinforced by security forces? Surely the PDF would be accepted easily? The Guard would be desperate for numbers, and Eliphas would graciously provide.

Studying the plans, he spotted what looked to be a massive wall surrounding the inner complex. They were thick enough to protect from the most withering artillery fire, and they looked to be tall enough to thwart the Jump Packs of Assault Marines. Combined with an ample number of buildings to hide in and fire from, this would be easy to fortify quickly. When the Guard and traitor forces had taken the defensive ring, the traitors would turn on the Guardsmen, reinforced by Black Legionnaires deep-striking directly into the ring. Even if the Blood Ravens were present, they would fall in the surprise attack.

The main risk was that the subterfuge might be discovered prematurely and the traitors killed. If that was the case, Eliphas would deep-strike the Traitor Astartes behind the wall early and dig in. Admittedly that risk was rather large, but Eliphas was confident that they'd play their part until they fought their way past the wall.

Now he had a plan, he then needed a way to escape the planet. No matter how well the plan went, he was still pitting a couple of hundred mortals and a few dozen Astartes against thousands of Guardsmen and Space Marines, which would certainly be unendingly reinforced until the last heretic was slain. Finding a ship was out of the question – Eliphas wanted to be in the midst of the bloodshed before his position was overrun. He would need a psyker to teleport him away, and the only one he could see was talking with Araghast. He was not kneeling – it seemed as though they were speaking as equals. Interesting.

Turning up his vox-caster, Araghast spoke to his warband. "I go now, brothers! Take the Forge and soon this planet shall be ours!"

The rabble responded with a cheer as a circle of warpfire built around Araghast. The flames flew up, as if to consume the Terminator Lord, and when the flames died down, Araghast was gone.

Well, at least he now had a psyker who could spirit him away. He probably wouldn't do so willingly, though. Perhaps he could be persuaded.

The sorcerer noticed him, respectfully walked over and bowed. Eliphas sensed the treachery insinuated within every action. He spoke in a deep voice which seemed perpetually mocking and preternaturally echoing. "Lord Eliphas, what would you have of us?

"What would you have of the Black Legion?"

 _A/N: The creative juices were flowing more today so I wrote this chapter up early. I hope you enjoy. If you feel the story's getting a little filler-y, then fear not! Next chapter will at least start the assault on Angel Forge, but having never played Dawn of War II I'm probably missing a few details and making a few errors._

 _Criticisms/suggestions are always welcome. Thanks for reading!_


	6. Chapter VI: The Trap

Trooper Marcus Visum of the Meridian 83rd Infantry Regiment was awoken by a piercing siren. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear the grogginess, he groaned as his nineteen fellow Guardsmen of Beta Squad shambled out of their bunks. A cool, female voice crackled out over the old comms system. "Ork invasion at Angel Forge. Ork invasion at Angel Forge." A pause to let the dreaded words sink in, then, "The Emperor Protects." The crackling ceased.

The lads had often joked and dreamed about that golden voice, or "Crackly Carlie", as she was known. The fantasy was ruined by the interference that sometimes left her voice unintelligible, but the bleak attempt at humour masked the fact that for some of them, that was the last female voice they would ever hear as she gave them a general idea of what they would be facing, before the Sergeant would enter and give a less titillating account.

As Marcus sleepily pulled on his flak jacket and picked up his lasgun, the Sergeant pushed open the door as hard as he could, the sound of the metal handle smacking into the grey rockcrete wall giving a dramatic flair as Sergeant Ductor stepped through. With cold brown eyes that had seen every atrocity, a hard, unforgiving face and a stab wound in his cheek, he commanded fear and respect. As his men lined up in a drill line, lasguns shouldered, he scratched at his stubble, irritated that his night's sleep was interrupted by bloody greenskins.

"We've got a tough fight ahead of us. Masses of Orks have come out from Emperor-knows-where to loot Angel Forge. Our instructions are simple: enter the Forge and secure it, purging any greenskins on sight. Lieutenant Septis will lead us and a few other squads out, so move it!"

Sergeant Ductor led his troops out down a bleak rockcrete corridor into the cold dawn air. They filed into a two-deep line along with the other four squads and waited for the Lieutenant to give orders.

"Gentlemen, the Orks are attacking at Angel Forge!" he proclaimed vigorously. "We shall push forward into the heart of the Munitorium and secure it against any further attacks from greenskins. We will be supported by this Chimera, manned by Alpha Squad and myself. Our path will be but a single corridor to the inner ring, and there we will be joined by another Guard force heading in the same direction. Praise the Emperor!"

"Praise the Emperor!" his troops yelled pleasingly back at him. He smiled indulgently. Perhaps putting down this incursion would merit a promotion.

Marcus, on the other hand, wasn't so pleased. He'd been told that Orks were attacking Angel Forge three times now, and the plan seemed to boil down to "shoot the nasty greenskins while me and my favourite squad cower in a Chimera".

However, as he and the rest of his unit smartly turned and marched the short distance to the Forge, Chimera rumbling behind, he felt an odd sense of satisfaction. It had been a while since the Guard last had a call that wasn't a minor riot, and now he had a chance to apply all those hours of laborious drills.

They neared the path up to Angel Gate, and Marcus involuntarily swallowed. No Orks were visible, but the deepness and frequency of the yelling meant the entire area was crawling with the wretched things, and not just the little ones either.

Lieutenant Septis' voice rang out from the Chimera, wrecking any chance at stealth they had. Hopefully the Orks were deaf as well as stupid. "We're being joined by a group of security forces and PDF troops as reinforcements. Er, we're accepting their aid."

A mass of what looked to be disorganised rabble filed through calmly, messing up the neat line formation into more of a blob. They had no standardised uniform, instead wearing mismatched armour and clothes. One lad Marcus saw was more boy than man, with horrible tattoos all over his face. Were they that incompetent that the best they had to guard their planet was degenerates like these? Idiots.

Irritated, the Guardsmen began to march down the long passage. Looked to be a couple of kilometres long with rows of tall buildings on either side. Enough rubble in the road to provide ample cover, but not enough to block the way. They began to move forward cautiously, lasguns at the ready, comforted by the low purr of the Chimera behind them. With any luck, they'd moved in before the Orks could loot or build any big weapons or vehicles.

The first greenskins to spot them were small ones, the... what was it? Gretchin? The small ones more occupied with prying metal sheets away from the buildings than the Guardsmen. Most of them didn't see the lasbolts coming, so being reduced to smoking corpses came as an unpleasant surprise. Marcus grinned.

They were maybe halfway there when the first proper Ork spotted them. He emerged over the crest of a small pile of rubble, turning his head to yell. "Oi, boyz! We got some 'umies for stompin'!"

As a dozen lasbolts blew his head off, a resounding cry of "WAAAAAAAAGH!" echoed all around. An order resonated from the Chimera. "Run for it!" They obliged.

The green tide came from either side. Massive hulking monstrosities roaring and cursing at them as they sprinted down to engage in melee. The Chimera's multilaser and heavy bolter made short work of most of them, vaporising limbs and punching holes in the Orks. As Marcus ran, he fumbled with his lasgun, turning the power up from medium to high. At least then he could wound the beasts.

One of the greenskins, raging and almost frothing at the mouth, had spotted Marcus and picked him out specifically, rampaging towards him with a massive, crude axe held over its head ready to split him in half. With practised movements, Marcus slowed his pace, lifting the lasgun to his shoulder aiming at the head. A single shot burst through the jaw of the xeno, dropping it stone dead. Marcus picked up the pace again. A command rang out over the incoherent alien yelling. "Throw grenades at them! Blow the bastards up!" He recognised Sergeant Ductor's voice and moved instinctively to obey, grabbing a frag nade from his belt, pulling the pin and pitching it towards a group of Orks who were herded together by the rubble. The ensuing explosion and roars of pain told him he'd made his mark.

He managed to sweep across to get closer to the Sergeant. "Continue, trooper!" he yelled. "We need to secure the objective ASAP, at all costs!"

"Yes, sir!" Marcus shouted back, taking the time to shoot at an Ork that was gaining on them from behind. Ductor turned, identified the threat and cut its head off with a swift stroke from his power sword. Marcus glanced at the Chimera, which looked fairly intact save for a few gouge marks on the side skirts. The multilaser was valiantly blazing away at the enemy and the bolter rattled, but the tide was growing. More and more Orks emerged and came into the fray. One particularly large Ork picked up a man and crushed him in its grip, bellowing out profanity occasionally interspersed with orders as his hands dripped red. Marcus decided he was too far out of range to hit it, so turned to face Angel Gate, running full pelt towards it.

A few yards now... he was through. Positioning himself behind a stable-looking wall with perfectly positioned firing holes, he took potshots at Orks until the majority of the survivors had come through, similarly digging in and providing covering fire for anybody else who had yet to pass the gate.

The Chimera met an unlucky end as the large Ork shoulder-barged it into a pile of rubble and ripped the turret off. A few small Orks crawled inside and Marcus knew the Lieutenant and Alpha Squad were lost. Now all surviving Guardsmen and the rabble accompanying them had passed the gate. Now that they were in cover they could shoot away with impunity at the Orks.

Unseen to all, a single PDF trooper slipped into an opening in the wall, heading up to the gate controls.

The gate closed. The Guardsmen were dumbfounded. "What idiot shut the gate!?" yelled Ductor. "I'll have his head!"

One of the security men had gotten behind Marcus. He never saw the shot that blew the back of his head out, and all at once the Planetary Defence and security forces turned upon the Guardsmen. Ductor fell, a lasbolt piercing his flak jacket. The more canny Guardsmen banded together, ducking under the masses of fire being poured into their positions by the far more numerous traitors.

Black Dreadclaws began to rain from the sky. The Guardsmen began to pray to the Emperor.

 _A/N: Over 400 views? Blimey. Suggestions/criticisms/corrections are welcomed, as always. Thanks to the people who review this drivel, and the people who've followed it._

 _I wanted to try a different perspective for this chapter. I hope it made a nice change, but changes in perspective will be rare from here on. Next chapter will introduce the Blood Ravens before Eliphas runs off to troll Araghast some more. Thanks for reading!_


	7. Chapter VII: Calm

Hellclaws rained from the sky, black globules of malice and steel. The first slammed into the ground with a deafening crunch. The hapless Guardsmen stood frozen with fear. A hatch opened. A Chaos Space Marine stepped out.

Without hesitation, the Marine lifted his bolter and began to shoot bolt after bolt, the shells tearing through the flak armour as though it was nothing, pulping the bodies of his targets. Shrieks of despair and agony wracked the air, as the few remaining troopers retreated, staying low so the heretical forces couldn't get a shot.

More of the traitor Astartes clambered out of the pod as another Hellclaw impacted on a pile of rubble near the surviving loyalists, raising a massive cloud of dust. The survivors fired wildly into the dust, but any lasbolts that hit the enemy were surely weakened significantly by having to travel through the powder debris. The Chaos Marines that came out of the pod merely adjusted their auspexes to heat signatures before firing. The loyalists at least had the mercy of not having seen their deaths coming.

A Chaos Sorceror ran to the centre of the circle, impatiently batting cultists out of the way to clear a sufficient area. Reaching with his mind into the Warp, he grasped Eliphas, dragging his essence through Chaos into the space.

Eliphas appeared, already treading over lines of fire that had etched themselves into the hard ground. "Is the Gate taken?"

The Sorcerer bowed. "Yes, my Lord. Another force of Guard is headed this way-"

"I know," snarled Eliphas. "Let the Orks deal with them, we must fortify this position and wait for the Blood Ravens to appear. This wall is nigh-impregnable, the only weakness is the gate. Have a detachment of men jam the controls to the gate. It must stay closed."

"It will be done." The Sorcerer said, scurrying off to carry out his orders. Eliphas checked the bolt pistol and chainaxe he had taken from the Berserker. Inadequate. Eliphas found the chainaxe too unwieldy, too heavy to parry strikes. If you were a mindless beast that cared not for defence then indeed, it was able to tear through enemies quickly, and the sight of the gore erupting from the massive, jagged lacerations the weapon could inflict would satisfy a Khornate most pleasingly. Eliphas preferred power weapons, however. The lack of resistance he met as his blade sheared through a Marine and his armour reminded him how insubstantial his naive brothers were before his might.

Hmm... what was that? Eliphas narrowed his eyes as the peculiar thing descended from the sky, far away from their position.

A red Drop Pod. Blood Ravens. They were here. Good.

"Spread out and secure the entire area," ordered Eliphas loud enough for everyone to hear. "I don't want any Orks to interfere with my revenge."

The cultists obeyed and began to sweep the area for greenskins and pockets of Imperial resistance. He didn't trust them to be thorough, but he needed the space to begin some summoning of his own.

Ever since the Horus Heresy ten millennia ago, Lorgar, the Urizen, had studied Daemonology extensively in his Templum Inficio, spending the days writing massive tomes on the subject. He would hand these books over to his Dark Council, who would reveal them only to those that had been deemed worthy and favoured by the Chaos Gods. Eliphas could proudly count himself amongst them. It had been centuries ago, fresh from his Second Inheritance, that he had been summoned to Sicarus to receive his venerated Primarch's forbidden knowledge.

He had walked away from the Basilica of the Word a far wiser man. Not only did he feel that he now understood better the nature of Chaos and the Warp, but he had learned much, especially about the subjects of summoning daemons. Ever since, clutches of daemons had augmented his Word Bearers, slaying his enemies and laying waste to his conquests.

Fearing that he had lost much of his favour with the Ruinous Gods since his failure on Kronus, he decided to play it safe and plead for Khorne, whom he had sacrificed Crull's skull to when he had defeated Warlord Gorgutz. He needed no protective circles or wards of safety - such measures were the mark of a mediocre Daemonologist. Casting his will deep into the Warp, he touched Khorne's domain, invoking the blood spilt by his forces and promising much more, as well as the skulls of the loyalists, if they came under his service. A few packs of Bloodletters roaming around a field of flame and skulls looked intrigued, stalking towards him, yellow malice glimmering in their eyes. Flaming swords appeared in their taloned hands, and boiling brass armour adorned their lean, red bodies. Rage and war incarnate, if they could be swayed, Eliphas had a far better chance, gaining back some of the Blood God's favour at the same time.

Eliphas counted thirty-two Bloodletters. That would be sufficient. They went over to him and he pulled himself back into the Materium, dragging with great effort the retinue of Khornate daemons. In a flash of red light and a bloodcurdling scream, the Bloodletters appeared. Those who witnessed the event stared, awestruck, at the new force of daemons, and Eliphas felt the dynamic change. The mood became more eager, as the cultists and Legionnaires believed more that they could emerge victorious. Only Eliphas and perhaps the Sorcerer knew the truth. Even with their new daemonic allies, so few heretics could not hold off the combined might of the Imperial Guard and the Blood Ravens for long.

Fortunately, Eliphas had an escape route planned. Nothing else mattered, but striking a blow at the Blood Ravens was quite important.

After a short time, a bedraggled young cultist approached him. "The sector is secure. No sign of Imperial or greenskin resistance, sir."

"Good. Now we wait. Seek cover and aim gateside. The Space Marines will arrive shortly."

The Sorcerer returned, staring insolently into Eliphas' corrupted visage. "The entrance is secured, my Lord."

"It took a long time for you to return, psyker."

"Even as you say, Lord, but the panel was very old and advanced. It took complicated magic to bend it to my will, and now nothing short of high-grade explosives could breach the gate."

"Have a lookout posted on the wall. When the Blood Ravens are in sight, contact me immediately."

"As you wish, my Lord."

The Sorcerer walked back to the gate, gesticulating with an arcane staff, pointing at the wall. A group of nervous traitors ran up the steps. Turning back round, Eliphas observed the workings of the Black Legion.

They followed his commands well enough, though he detected a hint of dissent. That was to be expected. He was always prepared to execute those who would betray him. One must expect duplicity everywhere if he wants to advance up the ranks of Chaos. The Khornate Berserkers paced around in anticipation or otherwise butchered the carcasses of the betrayed Guardsmen. Fools. Eliphas would give Khorne a whole battle's worth of blood and skulls, not merely cold blood scavenged from corpses. The Noise Marines waited patiently, almost imperceptibly quaking with glee for the upcoming skirmish.

Eliphas waited for his poor, misguided brothers to arrive. He would show them the errors of their ways and convert them from corpse-worshipping brainwashed dolts to proud bearers of the Word.

 _A/N: Thanks for getting through another chapter. I think this one was maybe unnecessary and fillerish, but maybe an extra chapter needed to be dedicated to the fortification of Angel Gate before the Blood Ravens arrive. You may notice some differences to what happened in Chaos Rising, but I couldn't think of a good way to have some Guardsmen survive and alert Governor Derosa._

 _In any case, my humble gratitude for over 500 views!_


	8. Chapter VIII: Storm

The Black Legion waited. Soon, even the cultists had fallen silent, and the only sounds one could hear was profane bragging from the Orks, and a small battle in the distance, with the distinctive snaps of lasguns being fired and wild roaring being carried by the wind. The other Guard contingent was further away from the Gate before the Orks fell on them. Eliphas judged from the distance that none of the Guardsmen would make it to the Forge. Good.

The Slaaneshi Noise Champion, Kazgrim, quirked his head. With his already superhuman hearing further enhanced by his allegiance to the Prince of Excess, he could hear sounds far quieter and more imperceptible than other Space Marines. For instance, the quiet tread of power armour, the click of somebody snapping a magazine into a bolter, and orders that the Blood Ravens should secure the Forge and reinforce the Imperial Guard forces against the Ork menace.

Kazgrim despised working under anybody, much less an upstart whelp taking advantage of Araghast's hospitality. He also despised this planet and its lack of colours. All grey and beige, with splashes of red providing the only artistic relief. He hoped there would be a lot more red before the day was done.

Despite his antipathy, he duly informed Eliphas of the Blood Ravens, resisting the temptation to gut him with a power sword and sing along to the screams.

That would come later.

Eliphas was pleased by this development. It seemed they were not aware of the Black Legion's ambush. All the better for them when the Gate was opened and a torrent of bolter fire poured through. That's assuming they could get past the Orks. The sounds of whirring and welding meant the Orks were building vehicles to increase the effectiveness of their forces. Eliphas and his Word Bearers had defeated Gorgutz's entire WAAAGH! on Kronus, but with a few dozen Black Legionnaires who didn't trust him, with around a hundred worthless cultists and a small retinue of Bloodletters? They would fall easily.

That said, only one loyalist Drop Pod had been visible, which meant an elite squad of Blood Ravens had been sent along with any left to guard the planet. So few... their arrogance would be their downfall. Perhaps the initial assault was survivable after all.

A few moments later, a massive "WAAAAAAGH!" went up from the crowds of Orks. The revving of ramshackle engines and the celebratory shooting of guns indicated that the Blood Ravens had alerted the Orks. This meant they were either incompetent or they just didn't care. No matter. If they got past the Orks, the Black Legion would be waiting. No point in sallying forth and risking unnecessary casualties.

Loud clanking and bolter shots rang out, mixed with profane taunts and pained screams. Eliphas fancied that he heard the growl of a chainsword as it ripped through green flesh, and the whoosh of a jump pack. Assault Marines. No, wait... only one. One Assault Marine? Unless he was a warrior beyond compare, he would jump into the middle of a crowd and promptly be torn apart. Worrying. At least he heard no Loyalist engines, which thankfully meant no Land Raiders.

Eliphas walked over to the traitor forces on the walls. "Come away from the wall. It would not do to give away the trap so easily."

As the cultists sheepishly filed down, he ignored them, striding towards the Sorcerer that was rushing in his direction. Bowing hurriedly, the Sorcerer spoke. "My Lord, we have found a position with a vox caster. It looks to fill all this area."

Interesting. A vox caster could be used to stir his forces and demoralise the enemy, or perhaps sow doubt. However, he also wanted to be in the thick of the action, extracting violent revenge for Kronus. He decided that he'd fight on the front lines, and then fall back when the situation became dire. "Thank you, psyker," he replied sardonically. "That is all. Make your preparations for the attack."

"Yes, my master," the Sorcerer said, going off to place whatever wards he deemed necessary. Eliphas cared not.

The cacophony of battle came closer. The clatter of crude Ork firearms and the answering barks of bolters, the swinging of improvised weapons and the guttural roar of the chainsword. "Open the gate!" shouted a commanding voice from the other side. Blood Raven.

Soon, it became evident that the loyalists were now just outside the gate.

"No answer. Thaddeus, jump up and open the gate, if you would," the voice ordered.

"Yes, sir," another voice replied. The sound of a jump pack bellowing, and an Assault Marine ascended, landing neatly on the wall next to the gate controls. He spotted the enemy below.

"Chaos!" he spat, swiftly dropping down even as a salvo of bolts cut through where he had been moments before.

"Chaos? It cannot be helped. We must destroy this gate."

"But sir, the Forge will be vulnerable to Orks!"

"If you go up there again, you'd be cut to pieces, Thaddeus. Avitus, take the wall down."

A moment, then beeping that increased in frequency and pitch until an explosion blew a massive hole in the gate, spreading dust and shrapnel. Some of the larger fragments flew into the positions of the traitors, crushing some of the cultists. Eliphas stood impassively, a mocking smirk on his face.

"Welcome, Blood Ravens! Rejoice, for today you will be anointed and born anew as followers of Chaos!" Eliphas' words were accentuated by a wall of bolt rounds from the Chaos Space Marines, and the crackling red lasbolts by the traitor humans. They could not even see their target due to the obscuring dust, but surely anything short of a Terminator would be pulverised by the sheer volume of fire.

A hail of bolts flew back in answer, forcing Eliphas to take cover. Lurching behind a ruined wall, he aimed his bolt pistol through a gap and waited for the dust to clear. As the cloud parted, Eliphas saw strewn and dismembered bodies of the Blood Ravens caught in the initial volley. As the Black Legionnaires discarded empty magazines and reloaded, the remaining Blood Ravens stepped through, killing as they went.

"Ah, here are our brothers," drawled Eliphas. "Precisely on schedule."

Beside him, the once-proud warriors of the Black Legion were being dismantled by their more organised and collected enemies. Eliphas saw one Traitor Astartes fall, his helm unceremoniously crushed by bolter fire. A white-helmed Blood Raven, which Eliphas supposed was the leader, fired a plasma pistol at another Chaos Space Marine and the heretic fell, his body vaporised before it could hit the ground. Incompetents.

Luckily, then, Eliphas had a trick or two up his sleeve. "Charge, for Khorne! Spill their blood! Take their skulls!"

The Bloodletters and Khornate Berserkers got up from behind cover, rushing towards the foe with eager ferocity. Cries of "Blood for the Blood God!" and wild bellows emanated from the blood-red force as it charged.

"Fall back, Black Legionnaires. Provide cover as you move."

As the Blood Ravens focused on the horde of daemons and Berserkers that had fallen upon them, they retreated to safer positions. And thus the second trick of Eliphas was revealed: in retreating, the formations of traitors and heretics revealed a tripod-mounted Autocannon surrounded by sandbags to provide some protection, manned by a Havoc Marine.

As the Blood Ravens finished the combined force of Bloodletters and Berserkers despite taking heavy casualties, they turned their attention to the retreating Black Legion, and promptly took fire from an Autocannon. The heavy shells exploded against the Power Armour of the loyalists, blowing off limbs and heads of the ones not canny enough to take cover. Some tried to hide behind the corpses of their own battle-brothers, realising too late that the shells could easily smash through a Space Marine corpse and blast them into gristle. Bodies of cultists, Black Legionnaires and Blood Ravens littered the ground, and the loyalists had already lost maybe half their force.

Eliphas smiled grimly. "This way, my brothers!" he called mockingly, raising his voice above the rapid-fire barking of the Autocannon. "Blast them out of cover," he ordered to Kazgrim and his Noise Marines.

"It will be done, my Lord," purred Kazgrim. "Let us show them true sensation."

The Noise Marines opened fire with their Blastmasters, the ominous low throbbing bass note slowly increasing in pitch and volume until the very air resonated so strongly that it broke through the wall that the Blood Ravens hid behind, the sound causing Blood Ravens to collapse, bleeding from their mouthpieces and shattered visors as their brains haemorrhaged massively and eventually scrambled, causing brain matter to flow out of the orifices of their helmets.

Eliphas smiled. There would have been very few survivors of that attack. Not enough to withstand a final charge.

He was just about to give the order when he noticed a final red Drop Pod falling from the sky and landing in between the survivors and the Black Legion. Eliphas scoffed. Another dozen Marines to cut down in a few seconds? Too easy.

The hatch opened. A Dreadnought stepped out.

 _A/N: Thanks for over 700 views now! Sorry for the wait, I was being lazy and almost forgot about getting the next chapter done. Now that Davian Thule's back, there should be a nice chat with Eliphas, catching up on events like the good buddies that they are._

 _As always, thanks for reading. If you have any suggestions, corrections or criticism stick it in a review and I'll be right on it._


	9. Chapter IX: Flight

The Dreadnought's bundles of electrofibres and magna-coils whirred menacingly as it towered over its foes, limbs shifting to make sure movement was optimal. Its left arm hefted a twin-linked heavy bolter, and its right consisted of a Power Fist with four inwardly facing fingers, which it clacked together as if testing the weapon.

Eliphas hesitated for a split-second. Even the fearless Traitor Astartes must balk when confronted with a machine over twice as tall as them and many times wider, toting weaponry that would shred them to pieces at any range. "Retreat!" he yelled, prompting the heretics under his command to fall back again. The Havoc manning the Autocannon disobeyed, instead firing wildly, the shells detonating harmlessly against the thick ceramite and adamantium plates. The Dreadnought retaliated with a hail of bolts. A few of the projectiles impacted and exploded within the sandbags, but the majority hit either the Autocannon or the Havoc, pulverising both into twisted forms of metal and flesh. This gave enough time for the Black Legionnaires to back into a more covered position where the heavy bolter wouldn't give them so much trouble.

The Dreadnought laughed humourlessly. "Heretics, I... am here to end you. I am Davian Thule... conqueror of Kronus... and you are but chaff... before the scythe. Sending you back to your misbegotten false idols will be a pleasure," he uttered slowly and purposefully.

Eliphas' eyes widened in surprise. This Dreadnought had lead the Blood Ravens on Kronus? Priority number one, then. "Focus fire on the Dreadnought!" he ordered, hoping that at least one would get through and injure the metal beast. No such luck. The bolts were laughed off as though they were mere raindrops, the Dreadnought beginning its inexorable march forwards, each booming footstep heralding doom for the traitors.

Attached to the Power Fist was an underslung Heavy Flamer. The burning promethium flowed over and around cover, negating their advantage and coating them in the blazing substance, charring their armour even blacker and cooking them inside their suits, or leaving them barely alive with the joints of the Power Armour fused together. Any Marines flushed out of cover by the flamer were cut down in a torrent of bolter fire.

Soon, there were nine Black Legionnaires left. Eliphas, Kazgrim, the Sorcerer and six ordinary Black Legionnaires lucky enough to avoid the onslaught. "Fall back to the vox-caster," Eliphas spat. "This battle is nearly lost."

"Lost because of you, incompetent."

Eliphas turned slowly. "Repeat that, Kazgrim."

Kazgrim didn't bother, instead bringing the power sword overhead to cleave Eliphas in two. Eliphas sidestepped the blow, swinging the roaring chainaxe in an arc that cut through Kazgrim's head, leaving the Noise Champion truncated in his gaudily ornate armour. Eliphas slung the fallen Slaaneshi's power sword onto his back. Eight left.

"I said _fall back_ ," Eliphas snarled. His charges retreated obediently, lest they lie cloven along with Kazgrim. They scurried out of line of sight of Thule. A sudden sense of rage overcame Eliphas. Thule had taken Kronus from him, denying him the favour of the Dark Gods. Now he was cowering again, afraid of his foe? Disgusting. Eliphas dropped the bolt pistol, wielding the power sword instead.

 _blood blood blood blood blood_

Eliphas charged out of cover, unheeding of the wall of bolts that all seemed to miss him. He did not question it, rushing towards the Dreadnought.

 _blood blood blood_

Ducking under the power fist, Eliphas saw his opening and took it, the chainaxe scoring a deep gash into the broad armour. The power sword stabbed, rending a hole in the centre of the metal sarcophagus, managing to score a hit on the grievously wounded Astartes inside.

 _BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD_

Screaming in berserk fury, the chainaxe and power sword came down again and again, sawing through great chunks of ceramite to viciously butcher the half-carcass within. The wild swinging of the Power Fist did not ever reach Eliphas, and he was already too close to blast with the bolters or flamer. Just a few more seconds and he would be through.

A plasma bolt flew by his face, searing it enough to hurt the former Word Bearer. This snapped Eliphas out of his martial trance. He saw that the remaining Blood Ravens had grown bold enough to step out of cover and finally support their brother. He could not take all of them at once. Realising that, he retreated again, flinging the chainaxe at Thule so the vicious blade embedded deep into the armour. The damage to the Dreadnought was extensive enough that it could not move its legs, and the traitor was out of his line of sight.

Eliphas regrouped with his charges, and they began to walk backwards, firing at the Blood Ravens who were in pursuit. The more experienced ones took cover yet again, but a hot-headed inexperienced battle-brother continued his charge, yelling irritating corpse-venerating chants. Eliphas strode slowly forward to meet him and stabbed him in the gut with the power sword, the disruptive field surrounding the blade punching through the armour and body of the Marine as though they were completely insubstantial. The Blood Raven's strength left his limbs and he collapsed against Eliphas, who slid the blade up, eviscerating the Marine from navel to sternum. He withdrew the blade scornfully, letting the body fall. "You are found wanting," he said to them as he walked away, leaving the remainders of the traitors to cover him. "So good to see you again, Blood Ravens. I remember well our sparring on Kronus."

Eliphas' final trick was revealed. A black Hellclaw fell from the sky, disgorging a Chaos Dreadnought directly behind the loyalist Marines, forcing them to turn around and engage it, letting Eliphas and his group escape. "Tell Captain Thule that his old friend Eliphas is anxious to see him again," he called back to them, one last taunt before escape. Speaking of which...

"Now, psyker. Get us out of here."

The Sorcerer opened one man-sized portal through the Warp, only enough for one to get through.

"All of us, you dolt!"

The Sorcerer laughed mockingly. "I'm sorry, Eliphas, but I must follow orders," he said sombrely. "My orders were to return to Araghast alone, and I'm afraid your purpose has been served. My suggestion? Scurry ba-"

His scornful words were interrupted by Eliphas kicking him squarely in the chest, toppling him into a dark chasm, his last words a scream of terror. Holding the portal open with his own psychic strength, Eliphas walked through it and closed it behind him, abandoning the last of the Black Legion to be mopped up.

He appeared on a desolate, icy world. The cold air caused discomfort to even an Astartes, and for an instant Eliphas regretted not wearing a helmet. In the air was unmistakably the unspoken promise and unnatural stench of Chaos. Eliphas had never experienced such a strong Chaos taint, not even when he was near his Primarch, Lorgar. Towering over him was Lord Araghast, evidently surprised that Eliphas had returned instead of his pet Sorcerer.

"Where is Halagar?" demanded Araghast.

"He fell in the fray. Most unfortunate. I also regret to inform you that all the forces you sent to hold Angel Forge have been wiped out by the Blood Ravens, which I'm assuming was the plan."

Araghast, as was his habit, regarded Eliphas closely. "You are more shrewd than I thought, Word Bearer," he said. "Yes, they were to die. An expendable distraction to draw the Blood Ravens' attention away from the main attack here on Aurelia. They will arrive, but too late to stop what is to come. In time, they shall all fall before Chaos, whether as servants or as corpses."

All of them. Including Thule. Especially Thule.

Eliphas smirked grimly. "I look forward to it, my Lord."

 _A/N: Thanks for reading. Suggestions/corrections/criticisms are welcome._

 _Now that we've hit a little 'blind spot' for Chaos, do you have any suggestions what antics Eliphas should get up to? I have a few ideas, but anything else would be appreciated._

 _Maybe Thule will fare better in his next battle against Eliphas. Who knows?_


End file.
